Effortless Tomorrows

I'm sitting on the corner of Merciful Street
Just twiddling my thumbs as I put up my feet
On a cardboard box that reads, "Kick the curb"
A sign is on my neck that says "Do not disturb"
And as I sing a dusty dirge meant for no one's ears
I see the changing of the guard to all of my peers

They tell me to be thankful and I just get bored. . .
Yeah, I don't think I want to come around here no more

Emancipated circus freaks are lining up the block
Advanced trades then circulate on all of my clocks
The future and the past are allied in my pocket
And the linear equation is clasped within a locket
The dancer and the general pack up their clothes
And prepare to turn a little house into their home

I look over my shoulder and see you're on the shore. . .
Yeah, I'm pretty sure I won't come around here no more

Gypsy poets and musicians from home and from abroad
Threaten to unionize if they don't all get iPods
Fanciful interpretations of their melodic thirsts
Are lit across the faces of the clerks and the flirts
Eternity, they say to me, is just their little joke
And everybody in the car is ready for a smoke

All this misfortune is more than I can afford. . .
Yes, I am certain I won't come around here no more